


Liberation

by archdemonblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Grindeldore Holiday Exchange, Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2017, M/M, Magic and Technology, Modern AU, University AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archdemonblood/pseuds/archdemonblood
Summary: Modern university AU about Albus Dumbledore meeting Gellert Grindelwald. Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2017 gift for summeringminor!





	Liberation

Albus was awoken at 7:00am sharp by his phone’s insistent vibrating. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. ‘No,’ he thought stubbornly. ‘It’s Friday.’ Albus had one day a week where he got to sleep in, and he didn’t want to lose it to his wayward little brother in Scotland. 

But just in case he was wrong, he grabbed his phone and looked at the screen. 

‘Hogwarts School.’ 

Albus sighed, but answered it. “Good morning,” he said through a yawn.

“Mm,” came Headmaster Dippet’s deep voice on the other end of the line. “I suppose it still could be. It’s early.”

“Whatever my brother has done, professor, I’m sure he’s very sorry. Or, at least, I’m sure _I’m_ very sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. How is university life treating you?”

Albus wasn’t sure if the conversation diversion from the point of the phone call was a sign that whatever Aberforth had done this time wasn’t that bad or a sign that it was very bad. Albus sighed. “It’s going really well, Professor. I love not having free time, constantly stress eating, and dreaming about Transfiguration formulas.”

Professor Dippet chuckled. “One more year, Albus. And, for what it’s worth, we’re all very proud of you back here at Hogwarts.” 

Albus smiled slightly. “It’s worth a lot, Professor. Thank you.” A comfortable silence fell over the phone, and Albus decided to just rip the bandaid off. “Dare I ask how proud my little brother is making us all this morning?”

Dipped sighed as if Albus had just reminded him that his car had been impounded. “He’s in the hospital wing. Got himself into a fight this morning and lost.” 

“Nothing too serious?” Albus asked, already knowing the answer. If Aberforth were seriously hurt, Professor Dippet would not have waited so long to get to the point. 

“Nothing too serious.”

“Good. Thank you for telling me.” 

“Of course. Goodbye, Albus.”

Albus said his own farewell and hung up the phone. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep now. It took Albus ages to fall asleep , so it wouldn’t be worth it. Albus rubbed his eyes and slipped on his glasses as he sat up in bed. Through his open window, he saw the grey sky, and he checked his phone to confirm his suspicions. It would be pouring rain for most of the day. Damn. He’d left the car windows cracked last night when he got home from the supermarket. He headed down to remedy this as soon as he was dressed. A grey pontiac g6 with heavily tinted windows would not have been Albus’ first choice in cars, but he’d inherited it paid off from his mother, and he wasn’t about to throw away a perfectly good free car. He didn’t need it to get to the university--It was far easier just to apparate, especially since Albus lived in Godric’s Hollow rather than in the city where the university was--but it was useful for bringing groceries to and from the supermarket, and getting Aberforth to and from the train station for school every year. 

Bathilda Bagshot was out in her front garden, sheltering her plants so they wouldn’t drown in the coming rain. They smiled and waved at each other. Albus liked Bathilda. She was a fascinating woman with a vast knowledge of magical history, and she was one of the few people in Gordic’s Hollow who hadn’t treated Albus like he was made of glass ever since his mother’s suicide. 

It had happened a little more than two years ago. Albus’ mother had waited an entire week after Albus’ 18th birthday, so as not to forever spoil the occasion for him. She hadn’t left a suicide note so much as a financial document assuring Albus that the house and car were paid off and that there was money in the bank vault to hold him and Aberforth over for a while. She had died the way she had lived: carefully, quietly, and without any messy displays of emotion. 

It wasn’t as if Albus and Aberforth had needed a note to tell them why she’d done it. The most shocking thing was that she had actually waited until at least of her remaining children was 18. Looking back, Albus was quite certain that she had been planning this since his father’s sentencing. 

When Albus was 10, he had a little sister. She was six years old and had long blonde hair and a gap in her front teeth, and she was very proud of herself because she’d just learned to levitate small objects. She was a good little sister, though like most 10-year-old boys, Albus had not appreciated that as he ought to have. One day, Albus and Aberforth were going to ride their bikes through the village, and Ariana wanted to come too. Aberforth had been willing to bring her, but Albus had flatly refused. He knew that if she came along, he and Aberforth would have to stop and wait for her every 50 meters, and they’d have to keep to trails her training wheels could go on. Albus didn’t want to do that, so he told her to go play in the garden, and he’d peddled away as quickly as he could before Ariana could get their mother outside to insist he bring her. 

Albus thought back to that moment often. Everything could have been different, if only he’d been a bit nicer in that one moment. 

Albus and Aberforth returned perhaps 90 minutes later, having circled the village several times. Ariana wasn’t in the garden, but Albus hadn’t really expected her to listen to him, so he thought nothing of it. He and Aberforth put away their bikes and went inside the house.

“Where’s your sister?” their mother asked without looking up from her knitting. 

The rest of the day was a blur. They couldn’t find her anywhere. Their father came home from work early. As the sun was setting, they called the Aurors. 

The Aurors found her body in a shallow grave out in a field. The Aurors knew instantly who’d done it, and told Albus’ parents quite matter-of-factly. It had been three local teenage boys, who’d seen her doing magic and reacted violently. The Aurors, of course, had no authority to punish muggles, but they assured Albus’ parents that they would work with muggle authorities to see that justice was done. 

Albus was sent to bed feeling numb. He couldn’t remember sleeping that night, but he must have, because he vividly remembered waking up in the twilight of the next morning to the sound of the Aurors returning to arrest his father for murder, assault, and violation of the Statute of Secrecy.

That had been ten long years ago. Albus rolled the windows up and headed back inside to have breakfast and a cup of coffee before he apparated to the university library to do some revising. It started raining before he made it to the door.

~*~

The library was packed. Albus preferred to sit by himself while he revised, but the only seat open was at a table with a slender blond. Albus didn’t have much choice. The blond looked absorbed in his own book, anyway. Albus approached and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me. Is the seat next to you taken?”

The blond looked up at Albus with bright blue eyes. He gave Albus a cool once-over and then smiled. “Yes. By you.” He had an accent. German, if Albus wasn’t mistaken. 

Albus blushed. He seated himself next to the blond and began to tackle his armful of books. Or attempt to tackle them, anyway. Nothing seemed to be going according to plan that day. Part of why Albus preferred to revise alone was that he was actually quite distractible. The blond man had two books open, one of which had beautiful full-page illustrations on every other page. The blond didn’t have any paper or pencils out, and he wasn’t highlighting in either book. He was simply reading them. He’d read one page from one book and then one page from another. Sometimes, Albus caught him going back to the first book and rereading _that_ page before moving on. 

Albus tried not to read the blond’s books himself, but he saw enough of the pictures to quickly realize that the blond was reading... fairy tales. Albus’ father had told him _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ when he was young. He recognized it being played out in richly illustrated detail. 

The blond ignored Albus and remained intensely focused on his work for the better part of an hour. Then, with no warning, he stopped and turned to look at Albus. Albus was certain that the blond was about to call him out for staring, so Albus scrambled to mentally compose a defense of himself, but instead, the blond said: “I know you.” 

Albus raised his eyebrows. “You do?” 

“Yes. Only, I’m not sure how.” Now those blue eyes were fixed on _Albus_ with all the intensity that they’d been fixed on the books just a moment before. “What is your name?” 

“Albus Dumbledore. And yours?” 

“Dumbledore...” the blond whispered. Albus watched the way his tongue moved as he said albus’ name, hitting every syllable hard. “Not a name that’s easily forgotten. Let’s try facebook. Perhaps we have mutual friends?” The blond picked up his phone and began typing away. “I’m Gellert Grindelwald, by the way.” There was a beat of silence, and then Gellert giggled. 

“What?” Albus asked, wondering what horrible secret social media had revealed this time. 

“We have _one_ mutual friend.” He turned his phone to show Albus. Their only mutual friend was Bathilda Bagshot. “She is my grandmother’s sister,” Gellert explained. “Are you also related?” 

“No,” Albus said quickly. “Er, she’s my neighbor.”

Gellert quirked an eyebrow. “Is it custom to add your neighbors on facebook in Britain?” 

Albus shrugged. “I think it’s more of a small village thing than a British thing. I consider Bathilda a friend. I’ve had some fascinating talks with her about history.” 

“Perhaps,” Gellert said. “I grew up in Vienna.” He smiled playfully. “Not exactly a small village.” 

“No,” Albus said with a chuckle. “I’m a little bit jealous.” Honestly, he was more than a little bit jealous. 

Gellert looked down at his phone and tapped the ‘Send Friend Request’ button on Albus’ profile. “I hope you’ll accept,” he said. “I don’t have many friends in this country. I only moved here at the start of the term.” 

“Of course I’ll accept. I wouldn’t want your aunt to yell at me for hurting your feelings later.” 

Gellert rolled his eyes, but smiled. “What do you study?” he asked. 

“Transfiguration,” Albus said, suddenly remembering that he’d come here for a reason, and it wasn’t to flirt with cute boys. And yet it was so much more fun to flirt with cute boys. “And you’re...” Albus glanced at the fairy tales on the table. “Education, I’m guessing?” 

Gellert laughed. “No. That would be a very poor choice of careers for me, I think. I don’t have the patience. Nor would Durmstrang want me back after all the trouble I caused, to be honest.” He followed Albus’ gaze to the books. “That is... a hobby? It has nothing to do with my course. I’m a student of the Dark Arts, here at Camford.” 

There was a long moment of silence in which Albus’ brain completely stopped working. 

Gellert smiled weakly. “That isn’t a problem for you, is it? I know that in Britain, attitudes about the Dark Arts are somewhat...” He was polite enough not to say, ‘backwards,’ but Albus could tell he was thinking it. “... different from what I am used to. Many of my friends at Durmstrang told me it was foolish to go west to study the Dark Arts, but most Canford students I’ve encountered so far have been polite. Though you’re not the first to make that face.”

Albus swallowed and forced himself to smile. “Sorry. No, it’s not a problem. I’ve just never met a student of the Dark Arts before.”

Gellert nodded. “Camford’s department is small. Many argue that there are better Dark Arts courses at the Rolka Institute in Sweden and the Budapest Wizarding University. They’re certainly _larger_ courses. But I’ve had my heart set on Camford since before I decided on the Dark Arts as my field of study, and I’ve actually come to view the fact that there aren’t many others in my course as a strength. Our professors know all of us individually.”

Albus nodded. He wasn’t really listening. There was a more pressing question on his mind: “What exactly do you do with a degree in the Dark Arts?”

Gellert shrugged. “The same thing you do with any kind of magical degree. First, you decide if your interest lies in the theoretical or the practical, and from there your career path will become much more clear.”

“So you’re interested in the theoretical?” Albus said, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice. 

“Not really,” Gellert said. “I hope to pursue an experimental career in the Dark Arts. Of course, there is a theoretical component, but the university classifies it as a practical focus.”

“And are there many people looking to hire people with degrees in experimental Dark Arts?” 

Gellert chuckled. He must have known Albus was uncomfortable, but he kept calm and held eye contact. “Not people, no. Governments. It really only leads to a military career.” 

Albus furrowed his brows. “Most magical governments abolished their military forces when the Statute of Secrecy went into law. Hundreds of years ago.”

“Exactly,” Gellert said. “Hundreds of years ago. Times are changing. Or do you not agree?”

Albus didn’t know whether he agreed or not. It was amazing how quickly muggle technology had became a normal part of wizarding life after Miyakowa’s Algorithm had solved the incompatibility between magic and technology in 1999. That had been good for wizarding society in many ways, but it had also caused many problems with the Statute of Secrecy.

Gellert saw how Albus hesitated and smirked. “I think I’ll find a use for my skills. It’s not such a bad thing, no? Wars are often fought over good and worthy causes, and if I can help the right side win... well, I think that’s for the greater good, don’t you?”

Albus nodded slowly. “You have a point. And a very interesting way of looking at the world.”

Gellert’s smile grew. “I’m so glad you understand!” He glanced at his phone, and his smile became apologetic. “I have to go to class, but I hope we can continue this soon.”

He gathered up his things and left, and Albus sat alone at the table and twirled his pencil in his fingers, still distracted by Gellert even in Gellert’s absence. He refrained from immediately accepting the friend request, weirdly self-conscious about the possibility of seeming over-eager. Albus had never had trouble making friends, but somehow, Gellert felt different. Albus wanted to impress Gellert, and felt like he might actually have to try in order to do so. 

Albus had only one lecture on Fridays, on animal to animal transfiguration. He pulled out this phone and accepted Gellert’s friend request halfway through it.

~*~

Albus didn’t think of his circumstances as particularly lucky, but he knew that he didn’t have to worry about things some of his classmates did. He lived in a paid off house with a paid off car and had a scholarship covering his full tuition to university. He worked 20 hours a week at a bookstore not far from the university and brought home enough money to cover the bills, his and Aberforth’s school supplies, food, and a tolerable amount of spending money.

On his lunch break on Saturday, he checked his phone and found a private message from Gellert Grindelwald. It linked to a post on a tumblr account with the url “todesmeister.” Gellert had explained the link in a message sent immediately after: “I’ve been thinking about our conversation yesterday, and I don’t feel my answer to your question was sufficient. Please accept this as a belated answer.”

Albus was satisfied enough with the answer Gellert had given him yesterday, but he clicked the link anyway. It took him to a blog with a dark theme and a symbol Albus could swear he recognized but couldn’t immediately place as the icon. The words “Wizard Liberation” were in large, cursive letters as the blog’s title, and the description was short and simple: “Gellert. 19. Proud wizard. Student of the Dark Arts. Austrian in England. Anon is turned off as a matter of principle.”

Albus let his eyes wander down to the post he had actually been linked to. 

“I am often asked why I’m studying the Dark Arts, what I plan to do with my degree after I obtain it, and variations on those questions. It’s a cultural difference between eastern and western Europe that I am still not entirely comfortable navigating. Admitting to a personal interest in the subject seems to be a social faux pas in this country; even those who clearly _are_ interested do not admit to it; yet framing my choice in courses as a career decision is equally, if not more so, perilous. The mention of magical military forces in this day and age makes most people uncomfortable even back in Austria. In the United Kingdom, people often react to the mention of it as though I’d just demanded the immediate beheadal of all muggles. It’s very rare that I meet someone open-minded enough to actually have a conversation with me about what it means to have or not have wizarding military forces, and why I feel that the reestablishment of such forces in the near future is not only inevitable but desirable. 

There’s this great hesitation to actually say the words ‘witch hunt’ when discussing the Statute of Secrecy, but witch hunts are the entire reason the Statute of Secrecy exists. We live in fear of witch hunts every day, even now. There isn’t a single head of a magical state in the world that doesn’t obsess over every minor infraction of the Statute of Secrecy, because they know that minor violations of the Statute of Secrecy eventually add up to a witch hunt. In the 1600s, they hunted us with torches and swords, and it was easy to escape from them and to hide. But it’s 2017. They have bombs that can poison the air of our schools, guns that can kill an adult wizard before he has the chance to reach for his wand, and droids that are immune to stun spells and other magic that works on human muggles. It is no longer a simple matter for wizards to escape, if we are hunted. And being hunted again is also inevitable, in today’s world. Muggles have cameras that can’t be obliviated, and they keep their records on computers that can’t be confunded. The privacy and disorganization that allowed our ancestors to lie and to hide is long gone. 

If we cannot hide and we cannot simply escape then we must be prepared to fight. I do not _want_ to live in a world where war with muggles is necessary, but I believe that I _do_ live in that world. The magical community needs to advance our weapons as the muggles have advanced theirs, so that when the Statute of Secrecy crumbles, we can answer them blow-for-blow, and make them think twice about attacking us. I won’t pretend that it’s a sacrifice for me to study the Dark Arts; I am good at them, and I am indeed highly interested in them. I can assure you, however, that I would have chosen this course if I was anything less than certain of its utility in society.” 

Albus hit the reblog button and tagged the post “#thank you for writing this reply, #you make really good points, #concealment charm,” before going up and following Gellert’s blog. It occured to Albus almost immediately after doing so that there hadn’t been any kind of concealment charm tag on Gellert’s post. Concealment charm tags activated the spell all witches and wizards who used the internet were legally required to cast on their devices to hide certain content from muggles. Whether Gellert was correct about war with muggles being inevitable or not, this was a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy. 

But Albus wasn’t an Auror, and his lunch break was almost over, so he shrugged and put it out of his mind.

~*~

On Wednesday, Gellert seemed to be in a particular mood. He flooded Albus’ dash with porn, particularly porn of the pseudo-artsy, black and white variety. The vast majority of it didn’t interest Albus, but neither did it bother Albus to see it, so he ignored it and scrolled until suddenly he came upon a post what was unmistakably graphic gay porn. There was even a link at the bottom of the post that one could follow to “see more hot twinks.”

Albus’ pulse quickened. Gellert was reblogging gay porn. Gellert was attracted to men. Albus hadn’t even allowed himself to acknowledge before this moment how much he had been hoping for that. And why not? Gellert was handsome and charming and intelligent; everything Albus wanted in a man, if he were honest with himself, and what was to stop him from pursuing a real relationship with a man--not the quickies in the showers he’d enjoyed at Hogwarts--now that his mother was dead? 

Albus was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t know that Gellert was _actually_ interested in any kind of relationship with men. An aesthetic appreciation or even hypothetical willingness to be in a relationship with two men did not necessarily translate to a practical likelihood of dating or even hooking up with a guy anytime soon. 

Albus opened up the IM feature and, as casually as he could, asked, “You’re attracted to men?” 

Gellert replied “Yes,” within a second of Albus sending the message. There was a short pause, and then Gellert added, “and women. I consider myself sapiosexual; attracted to intelligence regardless of gender. Though, clearly, I am not without appreciation for the human body.” 

Albus bit the inside of his cheek. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d started a quite personal conversation, and he didn’t want Gellert to get the right idea. “Lol, yeah,” he replied. “Did you know that the university has an LGBTQ student union? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.” 

There was a full minute of silence before Gellert replied: “I am aware, but thank you for checking. That sort of organization just doesn’t interest me.” 

That was an unexpected answer. Albus’ follow-up question was genuine: “I won’t push you, but may I ask why not? I’m part of the leadership, so if we’re doing something wrong, I’d like to know.”

“Honestly?” Gellert replied, “I resent the implication that I’ll get along with the others in that club simply because we all share a deviance from the monogamous heterosexual norm.” 

“(Not big on monogamy, huh?) Well, it’s not entirely a social club. We do a lot of work to educate people about lgbtq issues and fight for our rights, on campus and in the community.”

“(I have no strong feelings either way. If a monogamist can meet my needs, I will meet theirs.) A noble use of your time, and I can’t say I don’t appreciate while enjoying the benefits of it; but neither can I join you. My own activism is currently singularly focused on advancing wizard rights.” 

Albus was relieved to hear that Gellert was open to monogamy, but the second part was yet another of the many odd things Gellert had said. “Wizard rights? What rights don’t we have?” 

“The right to live openly. Equal treatment under the law when we clash with them. There are many, but those are perhaps the most pressing.” 

The second point hit home more than Gellert could know. Albus thought about his dead sister and his father’s stone cold face the last time Albus had seen it; on the night of his sentencing. He took a deep breath, and replied, “May I think about how to proceed with this and respond to you another day? I don’t know how much to reveal or what I’m willing to concede right now.” 

“Certainly.  
If you’ll welcome a change of topic, I got curious and started going through your own #erotic tag. Is that redhead in the Nov 2016 picture you? The faces are hidden, but it does look like you from behind.” 

Albus blushed, glad that Gellert couldn’t see it. It _was_ him. He and Elphias had gotten brave after a night of drinking, and they’d taken a few pictures of themselves in very compromising positions, though neither faces nor genitals were shown. Albus had put his favorite on tumblr in what he now viewed as a fit of drunken stupidity, but he hadn’t even taken it down. He had to admit, he was a bit flattered whenever it got notes. “Yes. It’s me and a friend.” 

“Bold. I like it. :)” 

Albus stared at that reply and contemplated the many different meanings of that smiley face for so long that he couldn’t reply without an excuse for why he hadn’t replied before. Since he lacked such an excuse, he choose to let the conversation end there.

~*~

Albus and Gellert saw each other frequently on campus, at first by accident and then by design. They often met for lunch and discussed how their classes were going and any breakthroughs they’d had. Hearing Gellert speak so casually of the Dark Arts had unsettled Albus at first, but in time, the knot in his stomach when Gellert discussed new ways to torture or kill evaporated, and he saw only Gellert’s dazzling smile and glittering eyes.

Their topics weren’t always so macabre. On one snowy November morning, Gellert sat down and instantly began to tell Albus all about the guest lecturer from Vardston—the most prestigious of the American wizarding universities—who was apparently going to prove that the Tale of Three Brothers was true. 

Albus smiled. “And I take it you’re going, even though you’re the last person to need convincing?”

“Of course I’m going!” Gellert said. “That’s why I’m going! I have to find out what he knows!” He noticed that Albus wasn’t matching his enthusiasm and sighed. “Albus, I do not believe it _all_. Death himself coming down to confront the brothers? That’s an embellishment for children, of course. But the Hallows—Albus, there’s evidence of them throughout history.”

Albus chuckled. 

“What?” Gellert asked. “You don’t believe me?”

“No,” Albus said, “I do believe you. What’s funny is that you can accept a wand that never loses and a ring that reanimated the dead, but you draw the line at them having been created by a personification of death.”

“I deal in facts, Albus,” Gellert said. “Death as a sentient entity is a superstition created so people would feel better about the randomness of death in the world.”

“You don’t believe in any kind of divine plan, then?” Albus asked.

“You do?” Gellert asked with equal incredulity. 

Albus shrugged. “It comforts me to think that there’s some greater force out there giving the world a nudge in the right direction every now and then.”

“You’re such a romantic.” Gellert shook his head. “I believe in cause and effect, and in chance. Some people die, and some people live, and the only people with any control over that are murderers and those who orchestrate their own demises.”

“And yet you hope to become the master of death,” Albus said confidently. “Without becoming either of those types of people, I trust?”

Gellert smiled playfully and held Albus’ eye contact. “I never mentioned wanting to _find_ the Hollows.” His pale, delicate fingers walked across the table and over to Albus’ chips. He grabbed one and brought it back to his side of the table. “I could deny it,” he said. “But I know when I‘m caught.” He pushed the chip into his mouth slowly, in a way that seemed less like eating it and more like sucking it.

“I hate it when you flirt with me for food,” Albus said without any conviction.

“My dear Albus,” Gellert purred, “I am clearly flirting with you to distract you from the topic at hand. The food is just an instrument.” 

Albus chuckled. “Well, it does sound interesting,” he admitted. “I was planning on doing some revising tonight, but I think maybe I’ll go to the lecture instead.” 

Gellert grinned. “I’m so glad to hear that.” 

The lecture was enthralling. Albus didn’t take notes, unlike Gellert, who jotted down any information he didn’t already know and had almost a full page by the end of the night. Albus simply listened, and he had to admit that the lecturer made an extremely compelling case for the existence of _at least_ the wand and the ring, and it was only logical that if they existed, so did the cloak. And of course, if the cloak did its job well, there would be no traces of it in the history books. 

Albus and Gellert walked out into the snowy night with grins on their faces. They could see their breath, but Albus barely felt the cold. 

Gellert reached out with his bare hand and grabbed Albus’ wrist. “Come back to my flat with me,” he said. “It isn’t far, and I would like to continue discussing this with you.” 

“Of course,” Albus said. Nothing he had planned to do that evening felt nearly as important as Gellert’s bright eyes. 

 

Gellert moved quickly, flitting about and dodging ice patches in the dark as if he could sense them. It was difficult for Albus to keep up, but Gellert only lived a few blocks away. He rented the back bedroom in a second-story flat shared by him and two other students. Gellert turned up the heat and led Albus back to his bedroom. Albus followed Gellert’s directions to simply toss his coat and his gloves on the desk chair, and then Albus sat down on Gellert’s golden comforter. 

Albus stared at Gellert for a moment, and then finally voiced the troubling question that he’d been pushing out of his mind for most of the day: “You _want_ a war with the muggles, don’t you?” 

Gellert’s smile vanished. “I meant what I said on tumblr,” he said. “I wish we didn’t live in a world where this was necessary, but since we _do_ live in a world where it’s necessary, I’d rather we go to meet our destiny than wait around for the muggles to come to us when they have the upper hand.” 

“That’s why you want the Hallows.” It wasn’t a question. “They would ensure a wizarding victory.” 

“I’d rather not leave anything to chance when the fate of the world is on the line.” Gellert sat down next to Albus on the bed, their bodies angled in toward each other. “Muggles have had the upper hand for centuries now,” Gellert said, “And what have they done with it but oppress not only us but each other? If it’s not magic then it’s skin color or gender or even sexuality--You know as well as I do that homosexuality was perfectly acceptable in the wizarding world before we started bowing to muggle laws. It’s sick.” 

Albus nodded. “You have a point,” he said. “Giving wizards a chance on top could be for the greater good.” He thought about his sister, his father, and his mother, and he pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Gellert looked intent. “I would like that.” 

“When I was just a kid, some muggles saw my sister doing magic and murdered her. My father tracked them down and got revenge on them, and they locked him up in Azkaban until he died. My mother... was never really the same afterward. We told everyone she had a heart attack, because that’s what she asked us to do, in her note, but the truth is, she killed herself three years ago. And I used to think that if I’d done something differently--If I’d been with Ariana--maybe I could have...”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Gellert said. “It was theirs. Muggles are jealous and ignorant and hateful of anything different from themselves. They need to be stopped. For all our sakes.” 

Albus nodded slowly. 

“Thank you for telling me this,” Gellert said. They were nearly whispering now, but their faces were so close that every word was as loud and clear as if it were the only sound in the universe. “Albus, sometimes I think you are the only person in all of England, if not in all of the world, who understands me.” 

“I’m so glad I met you,” Albus said. “You make me feel like I have choices about who to be and how to deal with what happened to my family. I’ve never...” Albus looked away. “No one else has ever made me feel the way you do.” 

Gellert grabbed Albus’ chin and gently turned Albus’ face back to him, then leaned forward and brought their mouths together. 

Albus needed no time to adjust. He’d been dreaming about kissing Gellert for a month. His hands felt Gellert’s chest for a just a moment before gripping his sweater, keeping him close as Albus slipped his tongue into Gellert’s mouth. Gellert sucked on Albus’ tongue.

When Gellert’s hands found they way to Albus’ body, they didn’t go up to pull Albus in closer. Rather, then went down. They kneaded their way up Albus’ thighs until they came to the place where Albus’ thighs met. With no hesitation, Gellert’s left hand found Albus’ zipper and pulled it down. Only then did he break the kiss and look at Albus. “We can stop whenever you want,” he said. 

Albus scoffed. “I don’t want to stop.” He undid the button on his trousers and then leaned back to pull off his own sweater before moving forward to help Gellert out of his. Gellert sat there with his blond curls out of place and hunger in his eyes as Albus undid Gellert’s jeans. They both stood up for just long enough to get their boots, jeans, and boxers off before returning to the bed and pouncing on each other. 

Albus pinned Gellert against the bed, not holding him down but stretching him out and hovering over him, the better to admire him. Gellert smirked and enjoyed the way that Albus’ eyes devoured him for a moment, before he reached up and played with a strand of Albus’ hair. “I’m dying for you cock in my mouth,” he admitted. 

Albus obliged and then some. He got off of Gellert and flipped his body over, so that he could lower his cock into Gellert’s mouth, and then bring his own head down and take Gellert’s cock. 

The warmth and wetness of Gellert’s mouth on Albus’ cock made Albus’ breath catch almost instantly. He would have liked to be able to look Gellert in the eyes, but he had a feeling there would be other times for that. As Gellert began to suck, Albus took Gellert’s hardened cock in his hands and lined it up with his mouth before he stuck out his tongue and took a long, slow drag over the cock. 

Gellert moaned from below Albus, and it vibrated through his cock. This encouraged Albus, and he gave Gellert’s cock a series of short, fast licks and then followed them up with another long one. The feeling of Gellert squirming beneath him, unable to control his body’s response to the pleasure, drove Albus crazy. Gellert Grindelwald was a man who always liked to appear in control, and it had been so easy for Albus to undo that. 

Albus could feel his cock go farther down Gellert’s throat than anyone had ever taken Albus before, all while Gellert ran his hands up and down Albus’ thighs, occasionally going all the way up to tease Albus’ balls. Albus took Gellert’s cock in his mouth and showed his own approval with a few long, deep moans that made Gellert’s legs writhe in pleasure on either side of Albus’ head.

Gellert’s hands abandoned Albus’ thighs to focus on Albus’ balls, and Albus came first, shooting his cum down Gellert’s throat with one final, long moan. Gellert swallowed it expertly, and when Albus turned his moan into a deep suck that finished Gellert off, Albus tried to return the favor, but was unable to swallow it all, and ended up with cum running down his chin. 

Albus got off Gellert and sat on the bed panting. Gellert stayed where he was for a moment while he recovered, but then he sat up, looked at Albus, and smiled. He crawled toward Albus and carefully licked his own cum off Albus’ chin. 

“I’m really glad I met you too, Albus,” Gellert whispered. “I think that we can do amazing things together."


End file.
